


Remember Tonight For It Is The Beginning of Always

by Sleepless_Malice



Series: The Things Charkov Reads at Night [4]
Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Against the Wall - Freeform, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Love Bites, M/M, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 06:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19882861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepless_Malice/pseuds/Sleepless_Malice
Summary: A bribe, a storage room, and a very confused Valery.Set after the second meeting at the Kremlin.





	Remember Tonight For It Is The Beginning of Always

*

It isn’t so that Valery hasn’t noticed the difference in Boris’ demeanor that day from the beginning. The way Boris had stared at Charkov across the table, his lips twitching ever so slightly, something that clearly indicated his anger has just been the prelude of a couple of quite surprising behaviors. 

“The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who, in times of great moral crisis, maintain their neutrality,” Boris had told Valery the moment Charkov was out of ear-shot, just after telling Valery that naïve people are no threat. There’d been a judgment in Boris’ voice; disdain as well, edging dangerously close to personal loathing.

Yes, Valery has been noticing all of that, wondering about it in silence and trying to draw his own conclusions, but Boris’ behavior today is an equation he doesn’t manage to solve.

It’s only when they are walking along the greenish-brown carpet of the hotel floor, and suddenly Boris stops dead in his tracks, half drags and half pulls Valery inside the next best room, that Valery truly, ultimately understands.

Even with the echo of the door slammed shut, Valery can hear the thundering beat of his heart. It’s surprising though that his heart still beats; he’s scared and even more confused.

_Why?_

_What?_

_I… I…_

_Was Boris …_

The words and thoughts just race through the incoherent mess Valery’s mind already is, even before he grasps the true nature of his surroundings. The room is a storage room for the cleaning squad of the hotel he realized, gloomy and dusty, a disorganized mess with the smell of chemicals lingering in the air and he wonders if Boris had known before. Perhaps – but why?

Exactly nothing made any sense to Valery. Why had Boris used physical strength to pull him inside, he simply could have asked? That alone is unusual for Boris although it’s not unwelcomed on Valery’s side – it’s as one of his dreams has come to life. If they wish to talk in private a walk usually serves well and Boris has already muttered his anger earlier.

Boris locks the door behind them with a little key. So he must have bribed the chambermaid for this, Valery thinks and his eyes go wide. Then, before Valery can even finish his train of thoughts, Boris turns around, sporting an expression that is very unlike him. There’s a fire burning in Boris’ eyes, of the sort that Valery has never seen before.

Without caring to explain himself, Boris walks Valery up against the wall, painted in the same ugly yellow as all the rest.

“Boris! What?” Valery forces out, his back hitting the wall.

Reserved, collected – that’s perhaps how he would describe Boris to his mother; equipped with perfect manners, too. Right now, he’s none of it, emotions showing on his face, which Valery doesn’t manage to decipher fully.

Boris inhales sharply, nudging one of his knee between Valery’s thighs before he brings his arms on either side of Valery’s body, pressing his palms flat against the wall.

Valery is caged.

“I have grown tired of your teasing,” Boris sates, his face mere centimeters away from Valery’s.

Valery inclines his head as if he doesn’t understand, partly to escape the unfamiliar closeness, afraid that Boris notices the effect it has on him.

“Teasing?” Valery asks, looking at Boris with wide eyes. To the best of his knowledge, he has never done anything like this, to Boris least of all. In fact, he doesn’t even know how the entire concept of teasing works.

“Name it as you will,” Boris rasps, fingers suddenly wrapping around Valery’s tie so that he can pull him close until their lips are almost touching.

“I’ve not –“ Valery stammer, confused and also afraid. So finally Boris has learned about his orientation, a fact Valery doesn’t approve at all.

_Charkov, who else?_

Shame begins to creep up Valery’s skin and he lowers his gaze, looking down to the floor.

“Shut up,” Boris tells him in a low voice and despite not wanting it, it gets directly to Valery’s cock.

Damn, he’s horny, has been aroused for weeks without ever finding any release; he’s frustrated, he’s deprived of sleep and emotionally on the very edge, today perhaps more than ever.

“Boris, could you please fix my tie?” Boris repeats what Valery had said earlier today, mouthing along Valery’s throat. “As if you could not fix your damn tie alone.”

Valery shudders, feeling his voice forsake him even before he says anything at all. “I … You –“

Boris cuts him off. “I’m sick of it. I know your record; know about your adventures during your doctorate, have known it since day one.”

Valery’s throat constricts. “You … you ... didn’t tell me?” There’s an edge of nervousness to Valery’s voice.

“Because I didn’t care!” Boris’s hits the wall with his fist. “Because I didn’t care!”

Valery would have flinched if there’s space to do so. As it is, he simply stares at Boris in bewilderment.

“Apologies,” Boris adds, bringing a hand to Valery’s shoulder. “Your past is no business of mine.”

Valery closes his eyes for a second to collect his thoughts, or so at least he tries.

He repeats in his mind what Boris had said: _‘Because I didn’t care.’_

The fact that Boris speaks in the past is not lost on Valery.

_But you care now?_

Valery inhales sharply, takes his time to study Boris’ face again.

The fire still blazes away in his eyes.

_Why?_

_‘Your past is no business of mine’_

_Your future is?_

If asked later, Valery won’t be able to tell from where exactly the fit of boldness came from. But now, it’s there and without thinking about what he actually does, Valery dips his hand between them, the flat of his hand pressing between Boris’ legs.

For a split second, Valery’s eyes grow wide – Boris cock is hard. 

“You seem to care _now_?” he asks, surprised and equally delighted.

The question is outright rhetorical; the answer is there, right in his hand pressing hard against his palm.

Boris’ grip around Valery’s wrist is like iron as he withdraws it from between them, pinning both of Valery’s arms above his head.

“That’s not how it’s working, Valera –” There’s desperation in Boris’ voice, a commanding edge and one of his hand is enough to encircle both of Valery’s wrists. “Not how this game is played.”

As if to make a point, Boris is grinding so hard into him that Valery’s head is spinning.

It’s not as if Valery has never fantasized to be at Boris’ mercy, completely and utterly. Boris emanates an aura of unquestionable power, especially in public; his gaze is like steel, hard and piercing – unrelenting; his shoulders broad and squared – it simply begged for such nightly musings.

If Valery has any thoughts now, they don’t last.

Boris’ free hand wraps around Valery’s tie once more, pulling him close until their lips touch for the very first time. Valery freezes in surprise as all of a sudden his dream comes alive. For a second, the touch of Boris’ lips speaks of tentativeness, soft like the gentlest stir of breeze in a warm summer night; and for a second, Valery’s world stands still. And then Boris’ lips are moving and he lets go of Valery’s tie, arms circling Valery’s waist to press them flush together.

The kiss is nothing like Valery has dared to imagine it in his wildest dreams. There, it always had been chaste and clumsy; awkward even, because in his fantasies Boris always struggles to come to terms with the fact that he’s kissing a man.

The kiss is actually none of it. The same fire seems to burn in Boris’ veins as in his own, judging from the urgency his mouth moves against Valery’s. If Boris truly feels like Valery has imagined him to feel he’s doing a perfect job to conceal his doubts, at least for the moment.

As he kisses Boris back with closed eyes, Valery tries to free himself from the grip of Boris’ hand around his wrists and the torture Boris is subjecting him to. He wants to pull Boris’ head close, wants to wrap his arms around his neck or let his fingers card through Boris’ hair as he has imagined so often to do.

This time, Boris hears Valery’s silent plea and softens his hold so that Valery can finally bring his arms around Boris’ neck.

Breaking the kiss, Boris looks at Valery, whose cheeks feel flushed scarlet from the kiss alone. It is a moment of quiet realization, for both of them. No words disrupt the eerily silence, there’s no need to speak, despite – or rather because of the immensity of the statement.

Words, in the end, signify nothing.

Boris leans in, even closer than before until his lips mouth along Valery’s neck now, licking and sucking the already sensitive skin so exquisitely for a while that Valery’s head dips back. In response, his hands move into Boris’ hair and he lets his fingers run through it, losing himself in the sensation of the touch. 

The grazing of teeth is unexpected. Lightly at first but continuously intensifying until everything Valery can do is to moan out loud. He can’t think, cannot breathe – can’t do anything at all, and when Boris kisses him yet again he’s lost. He moans and takes it, arms flying to the back of Boris’ head, pressing him close until the world becomes a hazy blur with his breath catching in his throat from the sheer intensity of the kiss. 

Valery whimpers against Boris’ mouth in desperation, clawing at his shoulder’s in his urge. He’s close, his entire body shaking from the adrenaline soaring through his veins. Everything is too much at once yet at the same time it’s not enough, never will be enough, not here, not with Boris.

Even then, being caught in Boris’ embrace, Valery knows the clock is ticking, is ticking faster with every day. The autumn of their lives will soon be buried by early winter. He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on such thoughts; it doesn’t matter, shouldn’t matter at all when finally his entire being becomes a delicious mixture of rapture and despair and Boris’ hand is suddenly at the waistband of his trousers.

There’s another moment of silence in which Boris looks at Valery, asking for his consent to go on.

Valery feels his cheeks lighten up as he nods, blinking against the maddening anticipation he already feels. Boris has never been known for his extraordinary patience, and for once Valery is glad for it: how should he be willing to wait when trembling fingers undo his belt, the buttons in a way that makes him almost jump? Boris' fingers slip inside his underwear, cupping him fully and then begin to stroke him in a way Valery has never allowed himself to do to Boris’ image in his mind.

Valery’s breath is catching as he fights to keep quiet upon the sudden assault; he doesn’t have to fight for long as Boris’ lips are soon pressed against his own again, silencing him in the most beautiful sort of ways. It’s as if Boris wants to devour him; wants to eat him alive.

_– with all the accumulated radioactivity,_

Valery thinks, sighing inwardly that his mind dares to come up with something like this, even now.

The thoughts are diverted as heat spreads across Valery’s skin, just as Boris’ grip tightens around his cock. It’s followed by a whisper, so hoarse and desperate, and just incredibly filthy. “I demand your attention, Valery. _All of it_.”

Valery moans from the mere sensation the way how Boris says it brings.

He even wants to knock Boris’ hand away, not because he doesn’t like it – rather because of it. It feels so good to his touch-starved self, so very _very_ good as if Boris’ hand is made for him and he’s not ready to lose himself in bliss, never wants this to end and yet he struggles against the urge to start thrusting towards the hand around his cock. 

“Go on,” Boris tells him, licking upwards along the vein of Valery’s throat in filthy encouragement. “Don’t restrain yourself.” Two hours ago, Valery would have been certain that Boris is mocking him; never would he have even dared to imagine that Boris might feel the same for him.

“ _Go on, Valera!_ ”

The needy edge to Boris’ voice almost pushes him over the edge and Valery feels his hips buck on their own accord, rather frantically so which earns him a pleased hum from Boris.

After that, he tries to roll his hips more carefully but as soon as Boris’ lips are at his throat again, the established rhythm falters even faster than Valery thought it would.

At first, Boris only nibbles and sucks lightly on Valery’s until he reaches the middle of Valery’s throat where his mouth lingers, sucking hard. Late at night, Valery has dreamt of many things but he had never imagined being decorated by bites from Boris’ mouth. Perhaps, he should find the courage to stop this madness, for it will clearly show the next day but that would require one thing – that Valery actually cares.

He does not, can’t, because it’s simply impossible to form a coherent thought when he feels like his entire body is set ablaze and he thrusts into Boris’ hand over and over again, hiding his face on his shoulder to muffle his cries when he finds release in Boris’ arms.

The world is blurred in Valery’s post-orgasmic haze. Valery’s aware of the way Boris rubs circles against the small of his back after he’s cleaned his hand with a tissue, of the susurrating whispers against the top of his head, which is still resting against Boris’ shoulder. He’s aware of his shaking legs, too.

Valery cannot move, cannot bring himself to let go of Boris, afraid of what follows once he does. Most likely, the moment is ruined, just in the same way as the iridescent beauty of the soap bubble vanishes forever once it bursts. The thoughts of all the _what-ifs_ he has addressed so often whilst being alone swirl in Valery’s mind again, like snowflakes through the frosty night.

Valery is lost in fascination as he finally lifts his head and looks at Boris, whose lips and cheeks are flushed a beautiful red.

“Valery,” Boris says, then clears his throat to gain Valery’s attention. Then, he repeats himself, a little louder this time, taking both of Valery’s hands into his own. How cruel it is to dwell on the beautiful illusion that there would be a future for them, Valery thinks, looking at Boris with moist eyes. How cruel it is to live with the knowledge that there is no future for them; not in a world devoid of choices. 

“Hold me?” Valery mumbles. “If only for a little while?”

*

The next morning, Valery steps into the dining room of the hotel wearing a turtleneck pullover, the collar drawn up almost to his ears.

Boris looks up from behind the newspaper. “It suits you,” he says with a knowing grin.

*

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a quote from Dante Alighieri, as is Boris' first line.


End file.
